


Remembrance of Love

by onlyasmallfish



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Christmas Tree, Gen, Legolas isn't exactly an elfling though, Parent Thranduil, Thranduil crying because he loves his son, Young Legolas Greenleaf, father son love, mirkwood family, pre lotr Legolas, tree decorating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:12:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5524982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyasmallfish/pseuds/onlyasmallfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil thought that love had left him, never to return. But, he often forgets his son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance of Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm aware that there was no Christmas in Middle Earth, but I simply wanted Legolas and Thranduil to have a quiet little moment together and decorating a Christmas tree seemed like a nice way of doing it. I took a bit of artistic liberty because I just liked the idea of a glowing tree.

"Legolas, is this really necessary?"

"Yes. Entirely."

"That's not even the correct use of that word."

"Shush."

Thranduil sighed and leaned against the wall of his chambers, watching as a team of elves attempted to stand up a large evergreen tree in the corner opposite his couch. His son, Legolas, was standing beside him with his hands planted firmly on his hips and a devious gleam in his eye.

"And, what exactly is this for again?" Thranduil asked, his expression a mixture of conflicting feelings.

"It's a Solstice tree!" Legolas exclaimed. "Estel showed it to me. Do you remember him? That little human boy from Rivendell. The tree is a human custom."

"Yes. A _human_ custom," Thranduil repeated, placing emphasis on the name of the species. "We are not humans."

Legolas huffed and crossed his arms in annoyance.

"Oh psh. This is for your own good," he explained. Thranduil frowned and resumed his observation of the struggling servants.

A dark-haired elf, younger than the rest, was having extreme trouble with a particular branch. It had tangled itself mercilessly into his long black ponytail and he was fighting to free himself and hold the tree up at the same time. Legolas spotted him and dashed to his side.

"Here, Lísele, let me," he offered, sliding himself up next to the struggling elf and using his back to support the toppling tree. Lísele shook his head.

"Oh, no my prince," he said. "You shall get covered in sap! And the tree is far too heavy."

Legolas laughed and nudged him with his knee. "Don't worry about me. Get yourself untangled," he said with a smile. Lísele was about to protest but a sharp tug on the other side of the tree yanked on his hair rather harshly and pulled him forward. He let out a tiny cry of pain and massaged his scalp briefly. He then flashed Legolas a grateful smile and began untangling his dark hair from the coarse needles of the tree.

"Thank you, my prince," Lísele said with a bow, once his hair was free. It was still tangled and full of pine needles, but he insisted that Legolas step away from the tree.

"Come away from there, Legolas," Thranduil called. "Let them do their job."

Legolas nodded to Lísele and walked back over to his father, his hands whittling their way through his hair as he began to undo one of his braids.

"What am I supposed to do with this tree?" Thranduil asked once Legolas had returned to his side. Legolas ran his fingers through the wavy chunk of hair, tilting his head to the side to separate it from the rest of his hair.

"We're going to decorate it," he replied. "I've had some ornaments shipped from Rivendell."

"Well, you can do it for me, if you're so keen," Thranduil said, beginning to walk away. Legolas' hands flew from his hair and seized his father's sleeve, the unfinished braid swinging from his head. Thranduil sighed and turned back to his son, astonished to find that Legolas' face had become rather desperate.

"Please stay," he said. Thranduil raised his eyebrows in surprise, pausing.

"I haven't done anything with you since..." Legolas took a deep breath. "Since Nana died." Thranduil closed his eyes, his face becoming pained.

"Please, Ada?"

Thranduil's eyes flashed open in surprise at Legolas' sudden use of his childhood name. He looked into his son's wide, soft blue eyes that mirrored his own so well and saw something of himself reflected within them. He felt himself soften, the tense muscles in his face loosening to a gentle smile. He reached forward and placed a hand on Legolas' shoulder, squeezing it lovingly.

"I'll stay," he said softly. Legolas' face broke into a wide smile. He threw himself at his father and enveloped him tightly around the middle, taking the tall king by surprise and causing him to stumble backwards.

"L-Legolas!" he exclaimed, placing his hands on his son's back. He opened his mouth to speak, but the young elf from before, Lísele, interrupted him unknowingly.

"My king, the tree is ready," he said, bowing. Legolas' head appeared from between the folds of his father's cloak.

"Excellent!" He wriggled himself free and ducked under his bewildered father's arm. His eyes lit up with excitement upon seeing the evergreen, now standing tall and strong. Thranduil glanced over and, frankly, felt a little surprised.

The elves had succeeded in standing up the huge tree and had placed tiny candles all about the branches. A large box of ornaments sat off to the side, unopened and sealed with the Rivendell insignia. Legolas dismissed the servants with a nod and a wave of his hand, which he transferred to his father’s almost immediately. He began pulling Thranduil along, almost skipping towards the box which he opened excitedly upon reaching it. The young prince gasped aloud when he revealed the contents.

Nestled between scraps of cloth and mounds of straw, a glittering city of wonder lay before them. Reds, blues, silvers and golds shone out of the wooden crate among other colours in a rainbow of glitter and shine. With barely a moment of hesitation, Legolas pounced upon the ornaments, pulling each one out with enthusiasm. Thranduil watched his son with amusement as he goggled over the decorations, placed them on a table beside them, and moved onto the next one.

“Oh, Ada look!”

“This one’s a bird!”

“Ooh, this one has gold ribbon!”

“What a tiny star!”

“This one glitters like the sun!”

Legolas’ face was flushed with an excitement and joy that Thranduil realized had been missing from his life. He felt an old, forgotten feeling blossom in his heart, something he had not felt in more than a six hundred years. It exploded out of him as he observed the pure happiness Legolas exerted over each tiny thing, it oozed from his pores in a golden light as he became mesmerised by the exhilarated beam of a smile that painted his son’s face.

Love was something he had never even dreamed of feeling again. When his beloved wife had died in Gundabad, alone and imprisoned, his entire world had collapsed. It became empty, void of all light or happiness. He was ashamed to say that he had abandoned his son for a time, leaving his care to tutors and servants, for the thought of him was just too painful for the king to bear. Over time, his mangled heart became hardened, healing in a way over top of the pain he had suffered. He allowed himself to see Legolas again, although it was hard in the beginning, and had soon grown to greatly enjoy his son’s company, finding the young elfling to be humorous, likeable and very kind. 

But never had he thought that the one thing that had been ripped from him so terribly, could be restored by the innocent laugh of his love’s creation. The love he had been so devoted to that it was painful to even think of her child, would return to him through such a thing.

Thranduil stared at Legolas, his heart pumping like a drum within his chest. He felt the hot wetness of tears well up in his eyes and trickle down his cheeks. In slow motion, as if the world had been slowed down, Legolas looked up at his father and his joyful face fell. The ornament he held, a tiny golden feather, was dropped back into the box as he rushed to his weeping father.

“Ada? Ada, what’s wrong?” he inquired, his young voice laced with concern. He reached up to touch his father’s arm, but was suddenly engulfed in a tight embrace. Thranduil pressed his lips to Legolas’ forehead and hugged him tightly.

“I love you my son,” he gasped. “Amin mela lle, ion nin*. I love you so very, very much.”

The shock faded from Legolas’ eyes as he let out a soft breath. He wrapped his arms around his father’s neck and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek, rubbing Thranduil’s back comfortingly.

“I love you too, Ada,” he said softly. He stood in Thranduil’s arms as the king clutched him, holding onto the precious piece of life he neglected for so long. After a time, Thranduil released a shuddering breath and loosened his hold on his son. He stepped back slightly and sniffled, wiping the dry tears from the edges of his eyes. Legolas looked up at his father, his smaller hand drifting to catch the king’s. Thranduil looked at him when he squeezed it lovingly, a smile passing between father and son.

“Shall we get to it then?” Thranduil asked suddenly. Legolas gave him a curious look.

“What?”

Thranduil laughed and dropped his son’s hand, reaching for an ornament. 

“Decorating the tree of course!”

**Author's Note:**

> Lísele means 'sweetness' in Quenya. I wanted to create a young elf who I could possibly use in other things, someone sweet and very clumsy but kind and respectful. I hope you like him.
> 
> *Amin mela lle, ion nin  
> 'I love you, my son'


End file.
